


Pure

by dexstarr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blackcest, F/F, Femslash, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10980864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dexstarr/pseuds/dexstarr
Summary: This is how she stays pure.





	Pure

**Author's Note:**

> _Harry Potter_ is not mine and no profit is made from this work. Thank you to LJ friend scarysnapey for the beta.

_This_ is how she stays pure.  
  
Slipping from her blissfully lonely conjugal bed to creep to Bellatrix’s room, lingering in the doorway, waiting. Blue eyes wordlessly begging permission to enter, slightly parted lips showing intention.  
  
A flicker of black eyes, and a languid finger beckons — permission is granted. Narcissa glides into the room, into her sister’s embrace.  
  
The path back to purity begins and ends in her sister's arms. With her sister's red lips on hers. With her head between Bella's creamy thighs. With her sister's hands tangled in her blonde hair.  
  
Fourteen years ago Narcissa had waited for Bella to return from a night of seeking information; though the Dark Lord had fallen, her sister had remained fiercely loyal, committed to furthering his cause. But she had never returned.  
  
Bella had _always_ come when she said she would; and she had _never_ left her little sister waiting for her, waiting with an empty bed and open arms. Narcissa’s first sleepless night of worry — and anger — had turned into fourteen years of loneliness and misery. Bellatrix may have been sent to Azkaban, that dank hole, but Narcissa had been cast in a dark hell of her own. She’d suffered in her own way — perhaps not as obviously as if she too had been imprisoned in the Dementor-infested pit, but she’d been damaged, nonetheless.  
  
Fourteen years living a hollow life. Emotionless, unsatisfying sex with her husband — when he deigned to spend the night with his wife instead of his current paramour. Fourteen years of pretending to be the picture perfect couple for society, both sides of it. Pretending to be on the right side at the right time, usually forced to present a façade to hide their true allegiances to the Dark Lord, to protect themselves after his first fall. All pretend, every last minute of it for the past fourteen years.  
  
Lucius: all blond and gold and male and empty and _impure_  — every day with him, every night, sharing a bed, a room, a life (a _lie_ ) — had carved wounds in her soul, until she resembled one of Bella’s abandoned toys rather than a proper pure-blood witch.  
  
Fourteen years of longing for the dark part of her heart — the Bellatrix-shaped part, the missing star in a constellation of crushing black holes.  
  
_Fourteen_ years of impurity.  
  
But now Bellatrix has been returned to her, and Narcissa can feel again. Can live again.  
  
_Can be pure again._  
  
Every orgasm she takes from her sister with her deft tongue, practiced lips, and sharp teeth, obliterates a day of Narcissa’s impure past. Bella’s moans of pleasure help erase the memory of Lucius, of his Malfoy taint, of his thrusting cock defiling her sacred body.  
  
The _love_ flashing in her sister’s black eyes, visible after every night with Narcissa in her bed — in her arms; between her legs — brings the blonde ever closer to reclaiming her pure Black ancestry, to losing the bad faith of her marital name.  
  
For Narcissa _was_  — is — _must be_  — _Toujours Pur._  
  
_This_ is how she stays pure. Trailing a slick path of kiss-bites down the column of Bella’s arched throat, between her luscious breasts, down to her dewy belly. She nibbles, alternating light and hard, around the entrance of Bella’s sex, layering pain and pleasure in the _precise_ way that drives Bella to buck her straining hips against her sister’s face.  
  
But Narcissa continues the erotic teasing, until threats fall like candy from her sister’s pomegranate-red lips, until the dark woman can’t take it anymore, and grabs Narcissa's head, a warning to _get the fuck on with it_. Narcissa’s wet lips close on her sister’s clit, grazing it with her teeth, swirling her tongue in the _perfect_ way until Bella comes, writhing against her pale sister.  
  
Both women pant, lost in the deliciousness and wickedness of the moment, until the dark sister wants _more_.  
  
A crushing grip on her slim wrist pulls Narcissa up from her sister’s legs, until the two lie side by side. Narcissa's pink lips glisten; Bella kisses her, tasting the piquant salty-sweetness of her own climax, and then copper blood, when her teeth tear into her sister’s pouty bottom lip. She swallows and sucks hard on the bite; Narcissa’s squeals of pain are like a particularly fine vintage of wine, deep and rich on her tongue.  
  
Her knee nudges her sister’s ivory-and-cream thighs apart, nestling for a moment in the blazing heat she finds there. Bella laughs, impishly, into her sister’s mouth, and then leaves the bruised and bloody lips alone in favor of licking along Narcissa’s earlobe. Slender fingers follow her knee, pushing roughly into her sister’s cunt, sliding in the abundance of wetness there; she whispers, “So _hot_ , Cissy.”  
  
Her little sister mewls, begging in a desperate whimper for her own _moremoremore_ , but Bella’s teeth crunch into Narcissa’s ear — a love bite, really — before she says softly, “I think _not_.”  
  
_This_ is how she stays pure. Wrapped in her sister’s embrace, Bellatrix fully satiated and full of nefarious dreams, and she left smoldering with arousal, awake and thankful and _pure_.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written in August 2010. It was my first femslash ever. 
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr!](http://galacticcoyote.tumblr.com/)


End file.
